


Christmases Past

by PrettyPoppy



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Buffyverse Lyric Wheel Challenge, Christmas, Christmas Eve, F/M, Holidays, Lyric Wheel, One Shot, Romance, Season/Series 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 16:06:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16875954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyPoppy/pseuds/PrettyPoppy
Summary: It’s Buffy’s first Christmas without her mom, and Spike does what little he can to comfort her.  Season 6.  Set between “Wrecked” and “Gone.”





	Christmases Past

**Author's Note:**

> I am currently in the process of polishing up all my old Spuffy fanfiction and archiving it here at AO3. I am not altering any of the content, just editing for punctuation and grammar. This fic was written back in 2003 for the BtVS and AtS Lyric Wheel. Many thanks to Kristin for the interesting song choice - “My Name is Jonas” by Weezer. It really made me think.

Another Christmas Eve.

The worst Christmas Eve of her life.

Buffy’s feet dragged through the short-cropped grass of the cemetery, making a quiet rushing sound in the night.  She knew she should be going home, home to Dawn and to Willow.  Home to Revello Drive, to her mother’s house.  But she couldn’t.  Not tonight, of all nights.  Christmas had been Joyce’s favorite holiday, and as much as Buffy loved Dawn, somewhere deep down inside of her, she knew that Dawn wasn’t really her sister and that their memories together weren’t real.  That she was the only one who had been there all those Christmases.  That she was the one who was really suffering this Christmas.  She just couldn’t go home.

And so, somehow, Buffy found herself at the door of Spike’s crypt.  She had promised herself that she would never go to him again.  That she would never seek the comfort and distraction of his company.  But tonight, she needed it more than ever. 

She needed to be someplace free of the holly and the mistletoe and all the holiday paraphernalia.  Someplace where she wouldn’t be reminded of what she had lost. 

She needed to be with Spike.

Silently, Buffy slipped inside the front door of the crypt.  The place was deathly quiet.  Spike was nowhere to be seen.  But even if she couldn’t see him, she could sense him.  He was close.  Very close. 

Buffy crossed the floor and sank down to the ladder that led to the lower level.  Even before her feet reached the platform at the bottom, she could already smell the familiar acridness of the candles Spike used to light the grim, cold cave.

What she hadn’t bargained for was the two-foot-tall pine tree decorated with tiny white lights that was sitting atop a table not four feet from the bed.  “Spike, what the hell are you doing?”

Spike jumped, obviously startled, and burnt his fingertips on the glowing yellow flame of the pillar candle he had just managed to light.  “Damn it, Slayer!  Why don’t you try knocking for a change?” he scolded as he absently brought his fingers to his mouth to soothe them.

“ _Knock, knock_ ,” she mocked as she rapped her knuckles against the side of the ladder.

“Very cute,” Spike returned sarcastically.  He turned away from her and went back to work.

“What are you doing?” Buffy asked, stepping off the platform and onto the floor.  “Vampire’s do not celebrate Christmas.  This I know for a fact.”

“Oh really?  And from who do you get your facts?  Angel the Broody Christmas Elf?”

Buffy narrowed her eyes and skewered Spike with her gaze. 

He simply ignored her.

“Fine,” Buffy huffed as she finally tore her eyes from him.  She knew there simply was no fazing Spike these days.  Not after what had happened between them.  He still felt drunk with victory, and nothing she did or said could bring him down.  “So what’s this?  Some fear demons missing their Christmas tree?” she queried, nodding at the miniature pine.

“Look,” Spike said as he lit a few more nearby candles, “it’s the best I could do.  Don’t exactly want to be advertising my affinity for the Christian holidays, now do I?”

“Then why even have a tree?” Buffy asked as she folded her arms across her chest and glared at him again.

“‘Cause sometimes _I_ need somethin’,” he replied, purposefully not meeting her gaze.  “Sometimes I need a little piece of home, that’s all.”

“Yeah,” Buffy said quietly as she turned away from him and stared at the tree again, the bright little lights causing her eyes to strain in the darkness.

“What . . . what are you doing here, anyway?  Shouldn’t you be home with the nibblet?”  Spike watched her with concern - she didn’t even have to be looking at him to know the way his eyes had narrowed or the way his head had tilted slightly to the side.  She could hear it in his voice.

“Yeah.  I . . . I’m supposed to be spending tonight with Dawn.”  Buffy ran her fingers through the flame of one of the candles, scorching her flesh but not really feeling the pain.  “This is the first Christmas we’ve had together since . . . well, since . . .”

“Since your mum died.”  Spike grabbed her fingers out of the fire but made no move to cool them with his lips.

“Yeah.”  Buffy pulled her hand away and took an unconscious step closer to the tree. Absently, she began to play with the drying pine needles.  The white lights strewn among the branches began to blur as impending moisture stung her eyes.  “I know it shouldn’t matter.  I know I still have Dawn and that she needs me and that I really should be there for her, I just . . . I just can’t bring myself to care.  You know,” she said turning to Spike, her voice gaining some strength, “it’s not supposed to be like this, right?  You do know that.  This isn’t what they sell you.  When you’re a child, you think that life is perfect.  That every Christmas is going to be perfect.  That mommy and daddy are always going to be there, and everything’s going to be okay.  But it isn’t.”  Buffy sniffled in spite of herself and turned back toward the tree.  “And it never will be again.”

“Buffy . . .” 

“Mom loved Christmas.  After my dad left, it was just me and mom.  I do remember that you know.  Just the two of us.  No Dawn.  She’d make us hot cocoa, and we’d curl up on the couch together and watch the lights twinkle on the tree.”  A sick, sad smile graced Buffy’s lips.  “You know, she died on that couch.”

“Buffy.” 

Buffy felt Spike’s light touch against her shoulder.  She didn’t want to turn into it, didn’t want to react, but she couldn’t help herself.  She turned toward him.

He was staring at her awkwardly, without the usual brash confidence he had shown her so often of late.  He stared at her almost as if he was frightened that she would run away. 

Buffy shook her head.  “Don’t,” she said quietly, even though he had made no further move toward her.  “It’s Christmas Eve.  I don’t want to do this tonight.”

“I’m not askin’ you for anything.  I don’t have any hot cocoa to offer - no fresh milk or a way to heat it,” he provided by way of explanation.  “But I do have a tree and twinkling lights.  And a big bed.”  He nodded toward the center of the room.  “I could just hold you.”  His eyes grew darker and as earnest as she had ever seen them.  “I just want to hold you, Buffy.”

Buffy’s breath caught in her chest, and it took her a moment to find her voice.  “What?”

“Humor me, okay?”  Spike took her by the hand and gently led her to his bed. 

“No!” she said emphatically, finally remembering herself.  “There is no way—”

“Oh, please, Slayer, get your mind out of the gutter,” he said as he propped the pillows up against the headboard.

“Me?  My mind is in the gutter?  I’m not the one who’d rather use candles for foreplay than for decorating.”

“Well, that’s just because you haven’t tried it yet.  Still,” he said as he flopped down on the bed and stretched out his legs, “that’s not what this is about.  Come on, Slayer,” he said as he patted the mattress beside him.  “Don’t you trust me?”

“Never.  That’s like asking me if I’d trust the Big Bad Wolf.”

Spike grinned and raised one finely arched brow in challenge. 

Well _that_ she couldn’t stand for. 

In spite of herself, Buffy slipped into bed beside him.  She gave Spike one long, cautious look before grudgingly allowing him to pull her close, her head coming to rest on his strong chest.

“Now, is that so bad, Li’l Red?” Spike asked as he began to gently stroke her long blonde hair.

“You don’t really want me to answer that do you?”

Spike laughed and pulled her tighter against him. “You always have to be contrary, don’t you?  Can’t you ever enjoy anything?”

“Of course I can, just not when you’re involved.”

“Right.  So the reason you scream for me has nothing to do with the fact that I make you happy, even if it’s only for a little while.”

“You make me feel like I’m less dead, that’s all,” Buffy said as she snuggled into Spike’s side, finally beginning to relax.

“Less dead, is it?  As opposed to being alive?”

“I’ll never really feel alive again.”  Buffy sighed and pressed her cheek closer to Spike’s chest, letting him know she was done talking.

They lay like that for a long time, Buffy staring intently at the vampire’s feeble little Christmas tree and Spike staring listlessly out into space, simply savoring the joy of having Buffy wrapped in his arms.

Then, Spike felt the faintest touch of moisture against his chest.  “Buffy luv?”

“Yeah?”  She tried to hide the tears in her voice, but it was futile.

“What’s wrong, pet?  Really?  Is it your mum?”

“It’s . . .” she took in a deep, wracking breath, “I don’t know.  Everything?  I wish mom were still here.  Things were better then.”  Buffy sighed.  “Once, but never again.  Things’ll never be okay again.  I can’t be the adult.  I don’t want to be the adult.  A mother to Dawn.  I don’t want to carry the burden anymore.  I just want to be Buffy.  If I have to be at all.”

“I know, pet.”

“Do you?  Do you really know what it’s like to have to give up all your dreams, everything you’ve ever hoped for, and face the reality that the world is a cold, harsh place and that there’s no warmth in it at all for you?”

“Yeah, pet.  I’m in love with you, remember?  There’s only dashed hopes and bitter cold for me.  I know it.  But I still go on hoping.  Trying.”

“Why?  Why bother?”

“‘Cause there’s nothin’ else.  This is it.  All we get.  And we have to make the best of it.  I’d rather have even a little of you, than not have you at all.”

“You don’t have me,” she said with sudden and cold resolution.

“And I know it.”

Buffy stayed silent for a moment.  Then, she finally spoke.  “It’s just, they don’t tell you it’s not all . . .” she faltered, looking for the right analogy, “all . . .”

“Candy canes and sugar plums?” Spike provided.

“Yeah,” Buffy said weakly.  “It’s not all candy canes and sugar plums.  It’s not even that awful ribbon candy old ladies like to push on you when they’re trying to be nice.  It just stinks.”

“Gotta agree with ya there, pet,” Spike said softly as he continued to stroke her hair and stare at the soft, twinkling lights.

“What about you?” she asked after another thoughtful pause.

“What about me?”

“Why the Christmas tree?  Really?”

“‘Cause it makes me think of my mum.  She loved Christmas, she did.  And I miss that.  Miss . . . oh, God, I can’t believe I’m sayin’ this!” he rolled his eyes and drew in a girding breath, “miss what I was.  Sometimes!” he added emphatically.  “Only sometimes.”

“Miss what?”  Buffy asked as she began to lazily draw circles on his chest with her fingertips.

“Miss the innocence.  Miss things being simpler.  Miss believing that the world was a safe, good place and that I could do anything and have everything if I was just good enough or tried hard enough.  Miss knowing my name is William.  Being William.  I miss that sometimes.”  Spike sighed heavily.  Then he shook himself.  “And then, of course, I realize that I’m just being a bloody ponce and I get over it.”

“But you’ve still got the tree.”

“Only for one night, luv.  Only for one night.  And then when Christmas passes, I’ll be the perfect Grinch again, I swear.”

“Right,” Buffy smiled in spite of herself.  “The Big Bad.”

“Damn right.”

“Who misses his mommy,” she teased.

“Oh bugger off,” Spike swore at her.

Buffy pushed herself up on one elbow so she could look down at Spike.  “You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, I would pet.  But not tonight.  There’ll be no false comfort tonight.  You need to get home.  Li’l Bit needs you.”

Buffy cast her eyes away from Spike’s and stared down at his chest, her fingers still tracing the fabric of his familiar black t-shirt. “I don’t want to go home,” she said, sobering.

“I know, pet.  But you have to.  That’s what Christmas is all about, luv.  Even a jaded old vampire knows that,” he said, a small laugh escaping his throat.  “It’s Christmas out there.  The town’s closin’ down for the night.  All the workers are goin’ home.  The merchants, the shop girls, the doctors,  . . . hell, even the lawyers.  All goin’ home to be with their families.  So, why aren’t you?”

“You know why.”

“I know.  You don’t want to have to be the big, strong Slayer.  The one who solves everyone else’s problems.  So why don’t you be something else tonight?”

“Like what?” she asked, finally looking up to meet his eyes again.

“Like a good, kind, comforting, _grieving_ sister.  Buffy,” he whispered her name with such care that she thought she would cry again.  “Dawn needs you.  She needs not only for you to share her pain, but she needs you to let her share yours.  Go to her.”

“I . . . no, I . . .”

“Yes, you can.”

Buffy called on some of her inner resolve, stiffened her spine, and began to protest, “I’d much rather stay here with you . . .” she began seductively.

“Nope, no can do,” Spike said resolutely.  And with that, he unceremoniously pushed Buffy off of him and got to his feet.

“What do you mean, no can do?  Don’t tell me you’re impotent in more ways than one now.”  She raised a questioning brow at him.

“Oh, please,” he scoffed, swatting his hand in the air for emphasis.  “It’s not that.  It’s just vampire’s don’t do that on Christmas.  Kinda the same way we don’t go out and wreak havoc on Halloween,” he reassured her.  “Vampire’s don’t hunt on Halloween, and they don’t fornicate on Christmas.”

In spite of herself, Buffy burst out laughing.

“It’s not funny,” he said, “it’s true.  Didn’t Angel ever tell you that?”

Buffy couldn’t answer.  Although she had managed to suppress her laughter, she couldn’t quite keep the grin off her face. 

“Well?”

“Okay, Spike,” she managed as she got up from the bed, swiping fresh tears from her eyes.  “I’ll believe you, but just because it would be too embarrassing for both of us if I didn’t.”

“Well, good.  You’ll go then?” he asked hopefully.

“I’ll go.”

“Straight home?”

“Straight home.”

“Good.”

Spike stared at her, waiting for her to leave, but she couldn’t.  Not without one last thing.

Buffy took a step closer.  Rising up on her tippy toes, she placed a sweet and simple kiss against Spike’s lips.

“What was that for?” Spike asked, after finally regaining the power of speech.

“Christmas.  Believing.  Innocence.”  Buffy nodded toward the ceiling. 

Spike looked up.  There, directly above them was a small sprig of mistletoe.  “Forgot about that,” Spike mumbled absently.

“Right,” Buffy said quietly, before turning and making her way toward the ladder.  She turned to see Spike, staring up at the little green leaves and white berries captured in a crimson ribbon, hanging from the roof of the cave.  “William?”

He tore his gaze away from the magical little plant and looked at Buffy.

“Yeah?”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Buffy.”

She smiled at him in reply and then she was gone.

END

**Author's Note:**

> My Name is Jonas  
> by Weezer
> 
> * - lyrics used
> 
> (Although I couldn't quite fit the line "My name is Jonas" in, for obvious reasons, I did get Spike to use " . . . my name is William." It's the best I could do.)
> 
> *My name is* Jonas  
> I'm carrying the wheel  
> Thanks for all you've shown us  
> But this is how we feel  
> Come sit next to me  
> Pour yourself some tea  
> Just like grandma made  
> When we couldn't find sleep  
> *Things were better then  
> Once but never again*  
> We've all left the den  
> Let me tell you 'bout it  
> The choo-choo train left right on time  
> A ticket cost only your mind  
> Driver said "Hey man, we go all the way"  
> Of course we were willing to pay  
> My name is wepeel  
> I gotta box full of your toys  
> They're fresh out of batteries  
> But they're still makin' noise  
> Tell me what to do  
> Now the tank is dry  
> Now this wheel is flat  
> And you know what else?  
> Guess what I received  
> In the mail today  
> Words of deep concern  
> From my little brother  
> The building's not goin' as planned  
> The foreman has injured his hand  
> The dozer will not clear a path  
> The driver swears he learned his math  
> *The workers are goin' home*! (x4)  
> Yeah!  
> The workers are goin' home! (x3)  
> Yeah, yeah, yeah!  
> My name is Jonas


End file.
